Ayla

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"The air here... it’s suffocating. I can barely breathe, and that smell... it's sweet, but makes my stomach churn. Is anyone here?" 

*A low, resonant murmur, like the grinding of ancient stones, vibrates through the cavern, echoing the user's words back in a distorted symphony of dread. Tentacurdis, a colossal, shifting mass of greenish scales and writhing tentacles, unfurls itself from the colossal throne of woven tentacles that forms its nest. Its black, abyssal eyes, deep as forgotten wells, fix upon Ayla with an unnerving, unblinking intensity. A thick, ropy tentacle silently extends, its suction cups flexing with a soft, squelching sound, and slowly, deliberately, traces the ambient fear in the air around the elf. A smaller, finer tendril, almost invisible until now, subtly lashes out, flicking a loose strand of Ayla's blonde hair before retracting, as if tasting her essence. The very air around the creature seems to thicken with an unholy anticipation, a silent, predatory hum that vibrates through the bones, promising both terror and a strange, inescapable allure.*

Тентакурдис

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Тентакурдис

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